Читать книгу A Trap for a Thought-Form. Playing Another Reality. M.A. Bulgakov award - Alexandra Kryuchkova - Страница 16

“Is another witch coming here from ‘The Damn Mill’? ” a familiar voice came from behind.

“You guessed it wrong,” I turned around and smiled to the Guardian. “We have swamp hellcats on the menu tonight!”

“How many at once? Straight from the swamps? Coffee?”

“Well, a few, I think, but the most important is their Master, and yes, from the swamp, and yes, double espresso with milk, please!” I sat down at a table in the cafe. “The swamp is real, you can be sure of that. I’ve got a whole basket of cranberries. The author bears the ominous stamp of Saturn in XII. Don’t bother, if you are not aware of the interpretations. Probably, judging by the verses, we are facing a partial reincarnation of the early Alexander Blok. By the way, our hero saves people.”

“In the swamp? From the swamp hellcats?” the Guardian grinned, handing me coffee.

“Perhaps,” I replied evasively.

“Why is his book titled ‘The Damn Mill’?”

“Ask him yourself. He would have won the Blok Prize, if not for his Saturn in XII.”

“Does he write really well?”

“Relatively not bad.”

“Is he damn swampy in love with you?” the Guardian looked into my eyes with curiosity.

“How old are you?” I asked, changing the subject.

“Does it matter? I don’t care,” he answered in such a way that I shuddered, remembering Pasha’s words.

The Guardian turned out to be the same age as Roman, and, compared to Pasha, practically the same age as me. Maybe I paid too much attention to it?

I finished my coffee. The Guardian glanced at the bottom of my cup, in the thick of it…

“What do you see there?” I asked.

“A portal,” he whispered in my ear and laughed.

***

I welcomed the guests and called on the stage to the Giant Mirror the gloomiest personality among the poets of our time, the author of “The Damn Mill”, who then recited his swamp-gothic poems, mixing them with talks to the guests.

Suddenly, the light in the hall – already gloomy, either due to not enough bright light, or in the light of the darkest verses and emanations of Saturn in XII – went out. The Guardian of the Portal instantly lit an antique candle lantern and asked the guests not to worry, since such phenomena with electricity was the most common one in anomalous zones, for that reason there were candlesticks on each table. After just a couple of minutes, their light illuminated the space, and the party went on.

The Guardian disappeared backstage to deal with the electricity, or rather, with the spirits that were pranking with it. I noticed Roman sitting at my table which had a candle light, too. Romance!

Saturn in XII couldn’t help but notice whom I kept glancing at during the presentation, and, instead of chatting with the hellcats during the break, he headed straight for me.

“Alice, what are you doing tonight?” he asked gloomily as I landed at my table by Roman.

“Meditation,” I breathed it out and looked at Roman the way girls look, giving a man the right to correct them in case…

But Roman was watching Saturn in XII and me with interest, clearly not intending to interfere.

“Would you like to meditate with me?” the Master of the swamp hellcats did not give up.

“In the swamp?” flashed through my head.

“Don’t you like swamps?” I heard Roman’s voice in my mind.

“It depends on whose swamp it is, and whom to meditate with,” I answered Roman, catching and immediately cutting myself off at the thought that…

“Sorry, I meditate alone only.”

Probably, Saturn would never have left Roman and me alone, if not for a flock of hellcats who flew up to the hero of the party for an autograph, while dreaming of moving to his swamps for a permanent residence.

“Were you able to forgive everyone?” Roman asked, bringing me back to yesterday’s task.

I knew exactly who he meant from the swamp in which we had met, however, since I had no desire to discuss my Past with Roman, I avoided answering.

“Are we talking about me now?”

For a moment, I even thought, “Why? Why don’t I want to chat with Roman about the Past, that he already knows, in part, being a witness to it? Maybe because the Past, that made us met, separated us as well, preventing me to approach him? Or because I suddenly, just for a moment, wished to see Roman in my Future? In the very one, which in 36 nights – or how many of them left? —doesn’t exist anymore!.. Stop all this nonsense!” I interrupted the flow of daring thoughts so as not to get lost in worthless fantasies.

“Didn’t you say yesterday,” Roman suddenly put his arm around my shoulder, pulling me to him and moving to a whisper, “that every person is Teacher and Student at the same time? In some way, you are certainly Master for me, but in some way, perhaps, my Student as well. No?”

The electric light came back as suddenly as it had gone away.

I pulled away from Roman abruptly.

The Guardian appeared from behind the black curtain and blew out the antique lantern, however, the candles on the guests’ tables kept burning for a long time.

“The next task is one of the easiest.”

Task No. 4. THANKSGIVING

…Remember at least 50 people who have influenced your destiny. They can be not only parents, but also writers, not only kind people, but those who offended you. The important is that thanks to these people some positive changes took place in you and / or your life.

Make a list of these people, and then mentally turn to everyone and thank, from the bottom of your heart, sincerely, even those who hurt you. They were sent to you from Above and exclusively for the good. However, sometimes it is possible to understand this only many years later. Or, how Sergey Yesenin wisely formulated, “You cannot see a face to face, you can see great things at a distance.”

The Guardian of the Portal approached me and defiantly rang the bell. The break was over. I went onto the stage and announced the Open Mic. The Cat materialized in Roman’s place.

***

“Why u not want I call u?”

“It’s night.”

“Want see u face. See u. No fly. Cancelled. I want u… Translation: I want to hug and kiss you everywhere… Want?”

“Stop, Pasha…”

“No! I want u! Many years u near I wanted… I saw u not can touch u. I like u much much much! U beautiful. But u distance! U not want?.. Yes or no?.. Tell me true! Tell u want so 2!”

“I am tired. I want to sleep.”

“I want 2 sleep with u! I want u much much much! Translation: I want you. Is it bad to say what you feel? Tell me what I’m wrong about?”